


tainted love

by chikoo



Series: unhinged exes au [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blood Kink, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Gambling, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Murder, Not between pairing, Prequel, Supernatural Elements, but can be read as a standalone, just two morally grey ppl making out at a crime scene, mentions of drugs and crimes, this is very illegal and sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27765964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chikoo/pseuds/chikoo
Summary: The man smiles, slow and indulgent, leaning in a little closer until Yunho feels giddy on his scent. “Of course, I do. Wouldn’t forget that sweet face in a minute. What’s your name, pretty boy?”“Yunho,” he says dumbly. The man mouths it like he’s tasting the letters, letting it savour and then he giggles, stretching a hand out.“I’m San! I hope we meet each other again Yunho.”
Relationships: Choi San/Jeong Yunho
Series: unhinged exes au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031160
Comments: 11
Kudos: 81





	tainted love

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO IT HAS BEEN A MINUTE  
> ive had this is my docs for a few weeks and finally finished so thought i might as well put it up. i quite like the world I've created lol, i wouldn't mind coming back to this and adding more. this is basically a standalone prequel to the first smutty one-shot lol. 
> 
> some warnings: I've tagged the blood and violence so please keep in mind that there's a scene where that happens!  
> also I've tagged abuse, it's not explicit but its def implied physical abuse, not between yunsan ofc but please keep that in mind as well! 
> 
> this was very fun to write ngl, i hope you enjoy this! and thx to eva for reading this through and giving me a confidence boost, IM LOVE YOU

_ 10 years ago _

  
  


“ _ You need to be careful, blossom. There’s bad people out there. _ ” 

Yunho doesn’t remember all that much about his mother but he does remember how rigidly she’d hammered this into his head, said it so often, it’s become all he can recollect about her voice, her character, even when everything else began to fade away. 

He hadn’t understood her but he’d listened, like any toddler, oblivious and cheerful to a fault. It had only begun to make sense the night she disappeared and left him all alone in a rotting apartment; the world is cruel to the forgotten and the unlucky. The world is even crueller to those who are different. 

Life had been decidedly difficult when he was far too young to realise what it meant when all those people in uniforms barged into his house and took him where there were too many other children, scrappier and filthier than him. It became far more difficult the day he went to sleep and woke up with claws, canines, and a hunger so violent and red he almost mauled half the boys in his dorm to death. 

It had taken years, years spent in hospital wards, in different group homes that had begun to blur together, years trying to get by and quell the monster within him when he’d finally met someone who made it all make sense: someone who was just like him. On the eve of his 16th birthday, they introduced Yunho to his new roommate, another equally tall, equally angry boy named Song Mingi. Yunho knew why they’d assigned him the new boy; Yunho’d been deemed the problem child, the delinquent, the one they were very much hoping to get rid of as soon as possible. Judging by the scrapes all over the boy’s neck and the blooming violet bruise under his eye, he was no different. 

He’d decided to ignore the boy: he hardly made friends and the ones he did never stuck around for very long. But the boy took one long look at Yunho, smiled so wide his eyes disappeared and opened his mouth to show Yunho the elongated fangs tucked behind his lips. 

“You’re like me! We need to stick together,” he’d simply said, oblivious to Yunho’s shock, stretching a hand out for him to take. And Yunho had looked at it, stared at the way Mingi’s nails were lengthening, curling upwards until they looked exactly like Yunho’s during one of his “ _ episodes _ ”. He’d grasped Mingi’s hand in his and never let go. 

Wolves. Shifters. Were-creatures. There were many words for someone like them, many ways to describe the creature they turned into every full moon, the creature that only knew hunger and pain and violence. Once they came of age, there were a handful of options. A simple, cookie-cutter life was impossible for their kind and that left either slithering into a lifetime of servitude in law enforcement or delving into something more insidious, a world where they wouldn’t have to hide their abilities and true self. A world that welcomed all their vices. With Mingi by his side, he was fearless; invincible. They’d left their pasts behind, destroyed all the memories of vulnerability and pain and dove right into the dark underbelly of a city that had once seemed safe and familiar and larger than life but now, was small, bountiful and so achingly addictive. 

The worst kinds of people ruled the night, kept themselves hidden and secret, and Mingi and he blended in perfectly, no stranger than the other strange, wicked creatures. They started with the simplest jobs, stacking up and organising crates and boxes full of things that smelt overtly illegal. But their specific skills were far more valued by the men whose pockets were lined with money that bled like tar, men who packaged up their businesses like secrets, neat and compact and deadly. 

Before they knew it, they’d found themselves as henchmen, unnaturally adept bodyguards to the truly decrepit and dangerous.

It’s only between his fifth and ninth paycheck that something soft and trembling in Yunho’s belly lifts its head and considers where exactly it all went wrong. It’s far too late of course, he thinks belatedly, in the midst of meticulously and quietly disposing of someone who’d been bold enough to disobey the man cutting Yunho’s paychecks. Perhaps it all went wrong when he’d lost count of just how many lives he’d taken. 

He thinks of this on a sunny Saturday morning, in his favourite brunch spot, shovelling food into his mouth, half-listening to Mingi and half-staring at the man who’d just walked into the diner. Mingi’s pattering on about something and Yunho tries his best to be attentive but the man is short, dark-haired and wearing a thin, green cardigan that fits him like a well-worn glove and suddenly Yunho can see nothing other than the freckles on the side of the man’s neck, can smell nothing but the overwhelming, almost beguiling scent of magnolias that seeps from the man’s tan skin like something fresh and pure and divine. So starkly different from Yunho in his faded clothes and scarred skin. 

It’s strange, Yunho thinks, the way that shivering, hopeful thing in his stomach seems to take hold of him the longer he stares at the man, bright and beaming even when he notices that the man has a companion, pasty, wrinkling and white-haired, leaning far too close to the man and caressing the top of his ass casually, possessively, as if they aren’t in a public place. Yunho has a sudden, jarring urge to rip the old man’s hand out. 

“ _ Yunho _ ?” 

It takes him a second to divert his gaze, blinking rapidly and taking in a bemused Mingi, gaping back at him with the exasperation of someone who’s been waiting impatiently. 

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Mingi whines and Yunho sputters out a quick apology, though ill-intentioned because he finds his eyes straying to the odd couple again, honing into the way the older man pays for the meal, how they share a big glass of milkshake, like a caricature of highschool sweethearts. The dark-haired man lets out high-pitched peals of laughter occasionally and as Yunho catches sight of the shimmering sheen of the man’s clothes, the gleam of jewels around his wrists, he quickly understands the eagerness of the beautiful man, the almost put-upon air of affection. 

“Wow, he’s pretty, hmm?” Yunho jolts, looking back at Mingi who’s turned around to stare at the couple, eyebrows wiggling obnoxiously. “Wonder how much he gets paid for little outings like this,” he muses, turning around and stuffing soggy fries into his mouth. And then, as if the man senses he’s being discussed so callously, he whips around and locks eyes with Yunho and suddenly, Yunho’s stomach dips down into a bottomless pit, heart thudding. 

The man holds his gaze cooly, mouth parted and a blush forming high on his cheekbones. Then his companion whispers something to him and he turns back around and Yunho can breathe again, renewed and invigorated. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


And perhaps the universe decides to finally take pity on him because a week later, in the back of a dingy, sex club, Yunho meets the dark-haired man once again. 

His charge, Lee Daesung is a capricious man with peculiar tastes. When he isn’t blowing the brains out of some unfortunate peddler who made an unfortunate mistake, he frequents clubs like these, rents multiple rooms and indulges himself in the highest-paid escorts, with Yunho on duty for far too long. Any arousal and fiendish curiosity Yunho first had during nights like this one have fizzled into exhaustion and irritation; he longs for his shifts to be over, the smell of arousal and bodily fluids so rancid in the air it takes him three days of constant exposure to air fresheners and essential oils to get rid of its imprint from his hypersensitive nose. 

He’s taken to carrying little pieces of cloth doused in strong-smelling oils and stuffing them in his suit, taking long breaths every time he feels overwhelmed but tonight- tonight, a familiar scent hits him the second they enter the establishment. A flowery scent that’s been seared into every listless dream he’s found himself lost in since that day. Yunho’s eyes search the expanse of the club, taking in the people lingering around dressed in garb that would have frightened him a few years ago, and others who’ve taken over platforms in the corner, already initiating in play that elevates the sharp spike of fear and the metallic tinge of human blood and arousal in the air. 

Yet, he sees the man nowhere and he deflates, following after his boss obediently until the scent grows stronger and stronger and almost as if they appear out of nowhere, the man and his wrinkly companion stand before them. Yunho’s vaguely aware of the old man engaging in delighted conversation with his perturbed boss, smelling of stale, old newspapers and greed. He’s more focused on the man he hasn’t been able to forget, somehow even more divine up close. From this distance, Yunho can see his wide, glassy eyes clearly, the elaborate outfit he has on, complete with ridiculously tight shorts and a harness, looking more uncomfortable than appealing. The man blinks back at Yunho curiously, small mouth pursed out into a red pout. Yunho has never wanted to sink his teeth into something more, so close yet so infuriatingly far away. 

Before he knows it, his boss pulls away and Yunho’s back to being stationed right outside a private room with thin walls, trying not to throw up in his mouth. The busty escort his boss had rented for the night lets out a particularly shrill rehearsed screech and Yunho decides he’s had enough, stumbling to the bar and settling down tiredly on a stool, knocking back a shot as soon as the bartender sets it down in front of him. 

“Can I sit here?” The alcohol is washed down with a burst of magnolia on his tongue, sitting so thick, Yunho feels like he can lap it up and taste it, swallow it down whole into his aching belly. He spins around and there’s the man, pointing to the seat next to him. He looks ruffled, hair sticking out oddly, red gloss smeared around his mouth, eyes lined with fatigue. Yunho can do nothing but nod wordlessly, tracking the man as he settles down next to him and places his head on the counter, a small, tired smile on his face. 

In another world, in another life, Yunho can almost imagine holding the man close, fingers pressing into the little dimple in his cheek and making him laugh. 

In this lifetime, Yunho orders another shot. 

“Mmm, one for me too,” the man murmurs, rubbing his nose into his arm. He smells a little sour, like dying magnolias wrapped in damp newspaper and Yunho’s nose wrinkles up, hating the scent left behind by the old man. He watches from the corner of his eye as the man knocks back his shot and sits comfortably, head in his palms. Yunho catches a flash of red and finally notices the large pendant hanging from the man’s neck, a large, ruby red rock held by intricate braided knots. It’s almost sparse in comparison to the outfit he has on and Yunho wonders if it’s something that was gifted to him. The way the man fiddles with it absently tells him otherwise. 

“You know, you work for a very dangerous man.” Yunho turns and looks at the man, taking in the sharp outline of his profile. The glittering makeup brushed over his cheekbone. He raises an eyebrow, wanting very much to comment on how it’s quite telling that this man’s  _ benefactor  _ even knew who his boss was, much less knew him enough to conversate with him. But he says nothing, grunting in acknowledgement instead. 

“I hate coming here,” the man continues, lips pushed out despondently. “It’s awfully boring.” 

“You don’t enjoy it?” The man frowns at Yunho, snorting. 

“What’s there to enjoy?” He gestures to his own clothes, pulling at the harness around his chest. “I can’t wait to get out of this. I don’t like being wrapped up like this.  _ Contained _ ,” he grouses and for a moment, Yunho’s sure he catches a glint of fire in his eyes but the man looks up at him, plaintive, and it disappears. 

“Where is your…” Yunho’s not entirely sure what to say, afraid of saying something that might offend him but the man throws his head back and laughs. 

“Kibum? He’s passed out. As he usually is when it gets this late,” the man scoffs, picking at something under his nails dismissively. “I just thought I’d get a few drinks in before I have to wake him up and get him home. And thought I’d talk to you. I’ve been meaning to since that day at the diner.” 

“Y-you remember me?” 

The man smiles, slow and indulgent, leaning in a little closer until Yunho feels giddy on his scent. “Of course, I do. Wouldn’t forget that sweet face in a minute. What’s your name, pretty boy?” 

“Yunho,” he says dumbly. The man mouths it like he’s tasting the letters, letting it savour and then he giggles, stretching a hand out. 

“I’m San! I hope we meet each other again Yunho.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


San quickly becomes a permanent fixture in Yunho’s life. 

He’d exchanged numbers with Yunho, made him swear he’d call and when Yunho had sent a lacklustre text after four hours of deliberation, he’d replied chirpily with plans of hanging out that led to many more texts and a lot more hanging out and the indentation of a San shaped hole in the centre of Yunho’s chest. 

Yunho’s never “hung out” with anyone except Mingi. And even then, it’s been casual, lazy days at one of their apartments, drinking beer during an off day. With San, Yunho experiences the city as someone else, as someone who could probably have enjoyed all the homely restaurants they go to, the cinemas they frequent, the parks they sit in. Someone who could have had a normal life. 

San is everything Yunho can never have. Not the way he wants at the very least. San is kind and bright and so overwhelmingly, beautifully devastating and barely on the fringes of the kind of life Yunho leads. He’s not naive, Yunho knows that much; sees it in the black platinum card he carries around, in the bruises around his wrists and the ones across his collarbones. But Yunho doubts San’s ever seen what his benefactor is really involved in, the kind of shit Yunho himself has been involved in. Every time he meets San, smells his delight and hugs his small, compact frame, some part of him chips away slowly and Yunho knows that this can’t go on. 

But perhaps the greatest irreconciliation between them is the very fact that Yunho isn’t  _ human.  _

It’s in the way he has to control himself like a rabid animal on a leash every time San gets a little lax with his affection, throwing himself towards Yunho and sidling up to him in jest. It’s in the way Yunho takes his aggression out on his job, overly vicious, to the point where his own deranged boss laughs at him and Mingi gives him concerned looks. It’s in the way Yunho can smell when Kibum has put his hands on San in a way that isn’t kind or gentle, can smell San’s pain and hurt, the bigger, yellow bruises he tries to hide under his clothes. 

And maybe that’s what persuades him to bare his heart out, as much as he conceivably can, on a cold autumn night, outside a convenience store, after an evening spent indulging San’s seafood cravings and now, late-night dessert hankering. When he’s said it he can’t quite take it back, and San stands in front of him, ice-cream smeared around his mouth, unblinking. 

“I-I just meant, I care for you, I-I like spending time with you, and-and-”

“I like you too, Jeong Yunho.” It’s Yunho’s turn to gawp. San giggles and takes another bite out of his ice cream cone, free hand fiddling with Yunho’s jacket absently. “I love spending time with you.” 

“G-good! That’s really good to hear,” Yunho stammers and tries to rub away the flush on his cheeks. He must look ridiculous because San laughs and pulls him in by the collar of his jacket, pressing a quick, sticky-sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“You’re so cute,” he announces. Yunho breathes in his scent, interspersed with sweetness and delight but there’s something else, something that smells of old, aching wounds. Yunho bristles and clutches at San’s hand in an effort to not do something more rash like devour him whole. 

“San, I know that- I know you’re doing what you’re doing for your own reasons and I would never pry but-” He halts, biting his tongue, mulling it over. “You can leave him, if you- if you need money, I can help you out, there’s no dearth of it, you don’t need to keep up with his bullshit, I can’t  _ bear  _ to see you-”

“Yunho.” San smells- pungent. Upset. 

“I know you’re trying to help but trust me I know what I’m doing,” he says after a laden moment and he sounds so sure and put together but Yunho opens his mouth to protest, trying to get San to just understand when he catches sight of the steely look in San’s eyes. It’s so out of place on his cheerful face, such a dead, empty stare, like someone callous and exempt from remorse. And then, as soon as it appears, it’s gone and San’s smiling wide again, grabbing hold of Yunho’s arm and dragging him away, chattering about something else entirely. 

It should be reassuring but all Yunho can think of is how much it feels like something simmering under a flimsy lid, waiting to boil over. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


What he dreads happens soon but not in the way Yunho had envisioned. 

Lee Daesung throws a lavish party for his eldest son’s birthday, a luxurious, grossly wasteful affair on a floating casino, where they can be as private as they need, as absurd and crooked as they like. 

Yunho’s by his charge’s side as per usual, Mingi next to him, surveying the massive deck, trying their best to ignore the sheer debauchery, the money being thrown with every roll of the die, the smell of opulence and sex and alcohol far too pungent in the air. 

There’s a nudge in his side and Mingi’s amused voice saying, “Hey, isn’t that your boy?” Yunho’s about to roll his eyes at him but then he catches San’s scent and perks up, finds him in Kibum’s lap on the far end, at a crowded table, laughing and biting his lip as Kibum presses harsh kisses into his neck, a deck of cards in one hand and a large wad of cash in the other. 

Yunho doesn’t have to rely on any of his senses to see that Kibum’s elation comes from the fact that he’s been on a lucky streak. He only has to see the reckless way he places higher and higher bets, till the patrons near him grow edgy and give each other looks. 

San looks up and finds Yunho, smiling softly at him from across the room and suddenly, Yunho’s reminded most starkly, almost cruelly of how much Yunho can never have him. Even when he’s in the same room. Even when he smells like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

“God,” Mingi mutters and Yunho’s unsure what he’s referring to but he agrees with the sentiment. 

Yunho keeps his eyes on San the whole night, barely even paying attention to his actual job. He watches as the stakes rise higher and San’s eyes grow narrower and narrower. He watches as Kibum grows more and more confident, betting on the kind of money that could bankrupt entire organisations. People are watching, gawking at this man with the blessings of someone divine, and Yunho’s astonished, in awe of the man’s almost unnatural luck when in the blink of an eye, everything changes. 

One moment, Kibum’s gazing at his cards with a sickening kind of satisfaction and the next he’s frowning, blinking rapidly and yelling because “ _ What happened to my cards? _ ” and everything gets horrifically quiet. 

All the chips Kibum had bet go to the opposite side of the table, a fortune gone, just like that. And that’s when Kibum loses it. 

He stands up and yells expletives about cheating and sabotage, staring desperately at the table. Yunho’s blood thrums, and the louder Kibum yells, the redder his face gets. San tries to calm him down, pulling at him and holding him close, murmuring things because people are staring,  _ everyone  _ is staring with pity, and suddenly, a sudden, loud, crack echoes across the room and Yunho’s heart stops. 

San falls to the floor so hard, Yunho hears the bone in his forearm crack audibly. He lies still there, body shivering, hand cupping the cheek that Kibum had struck so viciously. Kibum’s screaming something, something derogatory and awful, leaning over and spitting into San’s face and Yunho moves before he can even think, body waltzing over. But before he reaches them, Kibum grabs hold of San’s arm, his broken fucking arm, and pulls. San’s cry sounds like glass cutting into Yunho’s eardrums and he shakes, the inside of his cheeks beginning to peel with how hard he clenches his jaw. 

Kibum drags San by the arm, across the room and outside onto the deck roughly. As if on cue, everyone has gone back to the revelry, not at all concerned, and the noises start up again, the static of voices and laughter and music. Yunho gazes at the room, at all these pathetic,  _ fragile _ , humans who care for nothing but themselves. And suddenly, he recognises the soft creature within his belly, the creature that San had brought forth, the one that he thought he’d left behind in that crumbling, molding apartment he’d shared with his mother. 

Yunho looks back, at Daesung who has one hand on a bottle of wine and the other on some poor woman’s thigh, at Mingi who shakes his head desperately, eyes flitting around the room as if to say, “ _ Don’t, if something happens, both of you will pay for it.”  _

Yunho nods once, decides he’s willing to raze absolutely everything to the ground, willing to tear into the throats of all these worthless people,  _ anything _ , if only to make sure San is alright. Then, without a word, he turns around and rushes out. 

The casino leads out into the upper deck, open to the air, a few couches and tables strewn around, empty because the night is cold and unforgiving today, far too cold to sit outside, in view of the sea. His skin looks translucent under the pearlescent mist that sits like a diaphanous veil over everything. It could almost be peaceful, the gentle sounds of the sea, the peek of a silvery crescent moon high up in the sky. But Yunho catches San’s scent quickly and everything else fades away; it’s sour and pungent, laced with something  _ metallic _ . Panic rises in him and he runs, terrified of what he might find, terrified of the taste of blood in the air. 

He follows it to the other end of the deck, to the edge of the railings where San is crouched, back towards him, arched as if in pain. The smell of blood is so rancid, Yunho almost retches with it, stumbling forward with an aborted, “San!” taking form in his mouth and abruptly dying out. 

Because now that he’s closer, the veil lifts and as Yunho stares at the prone, ripped-open body of the old man, San elbow deep in his intestines, he has the arresting thought that maybe he’d misjudged San after all. Maybe San was more equipped for a world like this than Yunho would ever be. 

He watches San devour what looks like Kibum’s liver and he can’t quite look away at the sheer delight on San’s face, the tufts of fur hidden in the black of his hair that he’d never noticed before, the strange _tails_ jutting out from under San's shirt, things that hadn’t been  _ visible  _ to him before. San cocks his head back, giving Yunho a lazy smirk, the bottom half of his face messy with blood, and his eyes flash a brilliant golden, haunting,  _ beautiful.  _

San snorts, leaning behind onto the railing and fixing Yunho with an amused look.

“Thanks, I try,” he mutters, chewing noisily. He tugs at Kibum’s suit jacket absently and gestures to his very dead, very gruesome body lazily. “When I said I know what I’m doing, you should have listened to me. I didn’t want for you to find out this way truly- well, to be very honest, I expected you to know the first moment you saw me. But then I realised how young you were. A  _ baby.  _ You barely even know what you are, let alone what I could have been.” 

Yunho blinks, eyes darting between the pool of blood beneath San and Kibum’s body, and the heavy, hooded gaze San looks at him with. He almost wishes there was some part of him that found this abhorrent but all he feels, standing there, staring at San, at whatever he is, hulking over his victim like a proud vulture, is  _ pride.  _ A vicious, pulsing kind of pride that makes him want to press San against the railing and lick off the blood from his face, lick into his mouth and  _ devour _ . 

“Y-I had no idea. I really thought you were- hurt, or worse,” he mutters, throat parched. San scoffs, standing up and stepping away from the body slowly, like a graceful cat walking between the cracks in the floor, his tails flicking in the air playfully. He saunters over and it takes everything in Yunho not to reach out and grab, fists clenched by his side. San stops a hair’s breadth away from him and cautiously, reaches out with a bloody hand to press his thumb into Yunho’s cheek, pushing till it begins to ache a little, bone-deep. Yunho doesn’t move, transfixed by the raw violence in San’s eyes, the red of his lips and the length of his teeth, slipping out of his mouth. 

“You look like such a pure, righteous man. And yet, I could sense the pain, all that anger inside you so plainly. You can’t control it, you know? Something like that, it’s not meant to be kept hidden. It’s meant to be shared, plunged into the heart of this city and into people like him,” San whispers, peeking behind them. He lets go of Yunho’s cheek but his hands wander, resting on Yunho’s dress shirt. It’s as if he’s deliberately trying to mess him up, leave his mark in a morbid, possessive way. Yunho lets him, taking in the searing warmth of his skin and edging closer, closer till San’s hair tickles the underside of his jaw. 

San tips his head back and smiles beatifically, teeth stained red, eyes twinkling and Yunho’s resolve snaps in half. 

He grabs hold of San’s thin neck and presses his fingers in, cutting off the soft gasp that echoes from San’s mouth with his own. It’s searing, filthy, the taste of blood so indelible but San’s lips are soft, and his mouth is warm and Yunho shivers when San’s teeth prick into his tongue, soothed by the way San laves his own against Yunho’s, lazy and dazed, as if he’s intoxicated by the taste of Yunho’s blood. 

San feels like a lit firecracker Yunho’s trying desperately to hold on to, wild and unpredictable and burning hot. He bites and mewls and writhes and yet when Yunho sinks his claws into San’s neck, he whimpers and quietens, lapping at Yunho’s mouth, plastering his body against him in apology. The feel of his mouth, the arched line of his back under Yunho’s fingers, the hardness digging into Yunho’s abdomen is unbearably addictive. 

There’s a thump in the distance and Yunho starts, remembering that they’re out in the open, right next to an incriminating dead body and he pulls away, ignoring San’s protests. 

“We- not here, we can’t-”

San rolls his eyes and lets go of Yunho, walking over to the body and sitting down on his haunches. He looks back at Yunho expectantly and cocks his head. 

“Wanna help me get rid of it?” 

* * *

  
  
  


A crime scene is surprisingly easy to clean up. 

Between the two of them, it takes barely any time to shove Kibum’s dismembered body into the unforgiving sea and clean up the swathes of blood left behind. He’s led down to the hold, a cargo area that clearly hasn’t been frequented in ages and San hands him new clothes to change into. It suddenly strikes Yunho that this is what San had meant. He really had prepared everything. 

“Of course I did. Jang Kibum is an important man but not important enough for anyone to notice the odd offshore accounts he’s been transferring money to, the expenses on his cards or the disappearance of his little  _ toy _ . And after such a humiliating, devastating incident at a casino, it made sense that the man had nothing else to live for,” San says dramatically, fake sympathy written all over his face. Yunho snickers and stares at him, at the damp, fluff of his hair, the simple sweater he’s pulled over his head. He looks soft again, unassuming and gentle, all his real features hidden once again. But the sharpness of his jaw and his eyes, at odds with his softness, makes Yunho ache, something insatiable broiling in the pits of his stomach, the knowledge that San is like him, San is better and worse than him; with San, he never has to _hide._

He shoves a shirt over his head and tugs at San’s arm, realising with pleasant surprise that it’s healed. Of course it has, Yunho thinks to himself, eyeing the almost incandescent, luminescent sheen to San’s skin. He pulls him in and presses a soft kiss to his mouth and when San hums and his hands come up to Yunho’s back, a jolt of pain goes up Yunho’s spine from where San’s sunk his claws. Yunho yanks at San’s hair and leaves intent, open-mouthed kisses on his neck, tugging at the soft skin with his teeth, till blood pearls up under his tongue. 

“ _ Fuck _ , I knew you’d be like this. Knew you’d be the one,” San murmurs, hips jerking every time Yunho bites him, grinding against Yunho with sated sighs. “Next time, I want you to push me to my knees, press my face into the blood and fuck me right  _ there _ .” Yunho almost tears out San’s throat with how hard he twitches, distracted by the molten sensation of San grinding against his crotch and the weight of San’s words. 

“Next time?” San smirks, palm sliding down and cupping Yunho’s crotch and  _ squeezing  _ till it hurts so good, Yunho hisses, head thunking down on San’s shoulders, hips pushing into the warmth of San’s palm, into the heady, dizzying sensation. Yunho’s mind whirls and his body thrums with nothing but a feverish want, only assuaged by San’s touch. 

When San leans in, lips brushing against Yunho’s ear, Yunho feels faint and he just about catches what San says, the words ringing in his head like a promise. 

  
“Yes.  _ You’re mine now, Yunho.” _

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me @fightmehyuk !  
> pls do leave a kudos and comment if you can, i very much enjoy them!!


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